Patient H18
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Prowl and Ratchet are handed a recruiting mission and they must go into the Neutral Zone. While there, Prowl meets a mech whose predicament affects him more than he can imagine.
1. The Mission

_A/N: This was one of the first TF stories I've written for the fandom. Pardon any mistakes you might see; I didn't have a beta reader back then and I could only correct that much on my own. As for who H-18 is… I can only tell you it's __**not**__ an OC character. ;)_

Booming sounds echoed from high above, and every Autobot that was hiding in the underground tunnels of Iacon thought more than once that the walls would collapse at the next blow.

Prowl certainly thought of it anyway. He could remain calm in the exterior and retain the poise of a commanding officer all he liked, but he couldn't shake the possibility of the demolition of their last line of defence off his processor. He was aware of the disaster that was caused in other, less fortunate cities and he didn't like it one bit.

Another volley of booming sounds almost shook the room that served as command centre, making everyone flinch. Prowl clearly heard Ironhide curse under his breath.

"The slaggers... They're trying to retrorat us out."

Optimus didn't say anything to that, even though his optics clearly showed he was worried. The Seekers had been bombarding Iacon repeatedly for the last two days, forcing the Autobots to take cover wherever they could. So far the damages were kept to a minimum, but that didn't mean things wouldn't change. He turned to the other two Autobots that were close by.

"Grapple, Hoist… How are the walls holding up?"

The large green and orange mech shook his head. "I'm afraid there are only that many repairs we can make. Not only that, but the constant bombardment doesn't allow us to go out in the open and so fix any damages _outside_ the tunnels."

"Which means we'll have to send a task force to make sure it keeps them distracted while you're working," Prime said thoughtfully. "Prowl."

The white and black mech tensed and took a step forward. He had already overheard enough of the conversation to know what Prime wanted of him.

"Windcharger is the fastest and most agile of us. He should be able to avoid the Seekers' lasers successfully. The new guys, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, seem tough to withstand all but the heaviest laser fire. This should be a good opportunity to test their strengths. And Jazz should be in command – he has the most experience."

"That's all we can spare?" Ironhide exclaimed. "What about the other Minibots?"

"Not possible," Prowl said. "They're helping Wheeljack with the building of the Ark."

"Well then, some of the other warriors!"

"They're already on other missions," Prowl replied.

Ironhide clenched his jaw. "Fine. Then _I'll_ go!"

"Negative," Prowl interjected. "You should remain here and protect Prime in case the mission fails and our defences get breached."

"Then _you_ go!"

"If it helped, I would," Prowl said coolly.

Ironhide was about to say his opinion concerning a certain tactician and his obsession with logic, but Prime proved faster and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Enough, Ironhide," he said. "We shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves when the enemy is circling above us."

Ironhide couldn't argue with that, so he only bowed his head. Optimus was far from finished though.

"However, Ironhide has a point, Prowl. We're losing far more warriors than we can afford. As soon as you hand Jazz and the others their assignments, I want you to go to the Neutral Zone with Ratchet and see if you can find any able-bodied mechs willing to join our cause. Is that understood?"

Prowl nodded his acknowledgment. "Will do, Prime," he said, and he walked out the door.

____________________

Handing Jazz, the Twins and Windcharger their mission was an easy enough task for Prowl. However, he later had to deal with a certain medic who didn't want to leave before finishing his repairs on Tracks, who had been foolish enough to get in front of Starscream's lasers during a skirmish. Prowl tried to object and say that they had to leave while the Seekers weren't bombarding the city, that as long as the walls held on there would be no medical emergency; and that even if there _was_ one, Perceptor was more than capable of handling it.

It was of no use though. Ratchet wasn't built to let logic dictate his actions. He was built to care for the warriors' health and that's precisely what he did. That was why Prowl didn't really hold it against the medic when the latter shoved him out of the medical bay with many a curse and a final: "I'll be there when I _can!_"

Fortunately, Prowl didn't have to wait that long for Ratchet after all. An hour later, Ratchet came out of the medical bay with a medical kit in his hands, telling Tracks to stay where he was until Perceptor dismissed him or there would be hell to pay. The very intimidated word of affirmation from the injured Autobot seemed to satisfy Ratchet for the time being. So, he grabbed Prowl by the arm and started walking away, muttering something that the tactician could only translate as:

"Let's get this slag over with."


	2. Desperate Needs, Desperate Measures

"No way," the Cybertronian said, shaking his head. "I want nothing to do with you or your wars."

"We didn't cause this war, the Decepticons did," Ratchet said vehemently. "And it would have probably ended by now too if there were more mechs willing to stick out their necks when it was asked of them!"

"Ratchet, you're not helping," Prowl said calmly, although he had to admit that the medic was right. Most Cybertronians ran and hid when the war broke out in the hopes that this terrible turmoil would pass as suddenly as it had started. Little did they understand that war affected _everyone_ in this world, whether they decided to shut their optics and audio receptors from it or not.

Fear was a sentiment Prowl resented. It made mechs irrational.

"I have to think of my life," the Cybertronian snapped. "But if you're so desperate in finding mechs with a death wish, there's a medical centre just around the corner. Most of them have already lost too much to care about anything else anymore."

Ratchet seemed ready to pounce at the insolent Cybertronian, but Prowl held him back. That gave the Cybertronian the chance he wanted to transform and bolt.

"I begin to think that Ironhide's temper has started to rub off on you," the tactician said dryly to the still-fuming Ratchet.

Ratchet snorted and lowered his fists, a sign that he was regaining some of his composure. "Yes, well, if you had to see him almost every day in order to repair him like I do, maybe even _you_ would end up with a lot more emotions, Mr. Analysis," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He dusted his hands as though ridding himself of something foul and faced Prowl again. "We should move on."

Prowl remained as though rooted on the spot, lost in thought. His gaze drifted to the corner that the Cybertronian showed them and he started contemplating matters carefully.

Ratchet watched the tactician with optics slowly widening, for he realised what was in Prowl's processor.

"Don't say it," he exclaimed. "This is madness!"

"Actually, it makes a lot of sense," Prowl said. "The best warriors are the ones that have nothing to lose."

"Most of those mechs have seen war in its worst possible form!"

"That is why they'll have every reason to fight the Decepticons."

"And what of their mental state? Nothing will keep them from more harm out in the battlefield, Prowl. What happens if they just don't take it anymore and try to harm themselves? Or worse, harm fellow Autobots?!" Ratchet argued.

"Even if five out of the twenty we recruit manage to cope is better than the zero number we have come up these last two days," Prowl reasoned. "We need more fighters, and that's what we're going to get."

Ratchet was dismayed to see that he didn't have anything to say to that. All he could do was shoot an angry glare at Prowl's direction as the latter walked off; and then follow, hoping that they wouldn't regret this.

__________________

The young red and white mech that saw Prowl and Ratchet entering the medical centre was certainly surprised. Before either of the Autobots had the chance to say anything, he approached them and circled them, his blue optics scrutinising them thoroughly.

Prowl and Ratchet exchanged a glance of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, what seems to be the trouble?" the tactician inquired politely.

The mech pointed at the two Autobots. "You are. There's no injury in you whatsoever and yet you come in a medical centre."

Ratchet shook his head. "Though my friend could use a good reprogramming, that's not what we came here for," he said. "Are you in charge of this facility?"

"One of them," the mech answered and extended his hand. "I'm First Aid."

The Autobot medic took First Aid's hand and shook it. "I'm Ratchet. And this," he said, pointing at his companion, "is Prowl. We're Autobots."

"Your insignia say so only too clearly," First Aid said thoughtfully. He locked his gaze on Ratchet again. "And you're a medic."

Ratchet looked at First Aid in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"It takes one to know one, I suppose," First Aid said, shrugging his shoulders. "So what brings you two here? I can assure you that there are no Decepticons here this time."

"This time?" Prowl echoed, optics locked on First Aid.

First Aid nodded and beckoned the Autobots to follow him to the interior of the building. "In this medical centre my siblings and I try to follow the policy: 'There are no sides, just patients.' Anyone who is suffering an injury can come for repairs here."

"An ideal notion, though impractical," Prowl said, looking to his left and right as he took in his surroundings.

"I'll say," Ratchet seconded. "The Decepticons aren't the types to owe thanks to anyone who fixed them."

"Perhaps," First Aid admitted. "However, I don't think it's in my place to judge those that need my help."

At that moment, a white and brown mech appeared from down the hallway, looking as though searching for something. He obviously found it when he caught sight of First Aid, because he rushed to his direction.

"First Aid, you must hurry! Come quickly!"

"What happened, Groove?" First Aid asked in alarm.

"We're losing one. The guys need you at the repair bay now!"

First Aid didn't have to be told twice. He turned to Ratchet and grabbed him by the arm.

"I'm afraid I might need your help. Can you come?" he asked in hope.

Ratchet didn't hesitate in his answer. "Lead the way. I'll be right behind you."

Prowl shook his head at this. "Ratchet, we're on a mission."

"You don't need me to find able hands, just to check if they're fit," Ratchet said, already running down the hallway. "So first do _your_ part of the job."

With that, he was gone out of sight. Prowl placed a hand on his forehead, feeling some signs of overload in his processor. Honestly, if he weren't aware that Ratchet was an important part of the Autobot resistance against the Decepticons, he would have put him out of commission a long time ago. The doctor was constantly overstepping authority and defying orders at the drop of a hat!

Even so, it was one of the qualities that Prowl secretly admired, because he didn't think _he_ would be able to do a thing like that. His circuits were bound to get fried.

Since there wasn't much Prowl could do by just standing alone in the corridor, he decided to follow Ratchet's suggestion. Seeing a door on his left, his logic dictated that he could try his luck in that room first.

What he saw could hardly be described as pleasant. The room was filled with about a dozen mechs, all of them sporting some kind of injury – big or small. And it certainly wasn't pleasant when about a dozen pair of optics locked on his form. But, Prowl also noticed that they momentarily all looked as though they were expecting to see someone else.

_Possibly First Aid,_ he figured out.

A whistle cut into his train of thought. Prowl turned to the source of the noise, surprised to see that it belonged to a black mech sitting on a chair nearby. Though he seemed a powerful enough Cybertronian, he was missing his left leg and so kept a metal crutch close by. Feeling curious, Prowl walked up to the mech and greeted him courteously.

"Hello yourself," the mech answered, beckoning Prowl to sit on the other chair. "I'm Mallet."

"I'm Prowl," the tactician said, taking the seat.

"Good to see a new guy around," the other mech continued on. "Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm sorry," Prowl said, showing his insignia. "I'm a soldier."

Mallet was hardly disappointed. He chuckled instead. "It's perfectly fine. However, if you're here, it means that either the War has also reached these parts or you're looking for something. Recruits, I suppose?"

Prowl realised there was no point in sugar-coating the nature of his mission. He nodded, then eyed Mallet questioningly. "To reach to that conclusion so quickly, it would have to mean that this isn't the first time this has happened."

"You got that right," Mallet said. "We were 'honoured' by the Decepticons' presence some time ago. They brought a couple of their wounded, and while the good docs were treating them, their leader started talking to us."

Prowl's jaw tightened at this, for he understood that the mech was talking about Megatron. "And what did he say?" he asked.

Mallet waved his hand dismissively. "He promised the road to conquest… glory… energy beyond any Cybertronian's dream… Everything and nothing."

Prowl heaved a sigh. Yes, that definitely sounded like Megatron. "Did his words attract anyone?"

"If you had nothing but your own life to spare, however miserable it is, and someone came along and offered you a chance for greatness, what would you do?" Mallet answered.

Prowl's hands clenched into fists. "I see," he said quietly.

Suddenly, a wrathful cry filled the air, making everyone flinch in surprise.

"That came from the repair bay!" Mallet exclaimed.

Prowl didn't waste any time. He immediately sprang up, grabbing his acid-pellet rifle. "Where can I find it?"

"Go down the corridor, turn left, then straight ahead!"

"Thanks!"

Prowl hurried out the room, hoping no harm came to Ratchet. As he got close to the repair bay, he could hear the angry shouts becoming clearer, and he didn't like what he was hearing at all. Deciding to move the rest of the way with caution, he came to a halt and sneaked up to the door. Fortunately, it was open, and so he could dare a peek inside to see what was going on.

It was just as he had suspected. A blue mech was standing with his back to the door and pointing his laser gun to Ratchet, First Aid, Groove and three other mechs Prowl didn't know.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HER!" the blue mech shouted. "SHE WAS GETTING BETTER!"

"Yes, she was," First Aid said, keeping his palms upwards in a gesture of peace. "But one of her energy distributors got ruptured and leaked energy in her internal systems."

"Then why didn't you fix her?!" the blue mech asked, exasperation ringing in his every word.

"We tried. It wasn't enough," Ratchet said, keeping his tone calm and collected. "Put your weapon down, before someone gets hurt."

"The way _you_ hurt _her?!_"

Groove took a step forward. "Listen--"

"STAY BACK!"

Groove stopped. "That's not going to change what I have to say. I realise that it hurts seeing someone gone, but--"

"You know NOTHING!" the blue mech snapped. Optic fluid started trickling down his face plate, and he was shaking all over. "But… your friends will find out soon enough…"

_No!_ Seeing that there was no other option left for him, Prowl immediately stepped inside and fired.

Prowl's aim proved good. The acid-pellet hit the blue mech on the leg, making him fall on his knees. That gave Ratchet the chance to spring forward and wrench the gun away from the blue mech's fingers, while the three other mechs Prowl didn't know grabbed the frenzied one by the arms.

Subduing the mech was easier said than done though. Before Prowl had the chance to ask Ratchet if he were okay, the blue mech's chest plate opened to reveal a small laser cannon.

"Prowl, look out!"

It was too late. The next thing Prowl knew was the burning sensation of the laser hitting him in his midsection. Such was the force of the hit that he got thrown backwards and crashed against the wall, only to land on the floor with a deafening clank.

"Prowl!"

Prowl tried to lift his head, he really did, but his systems were swiftly closing down. The last thing he registered was a black and silver form entering the room and tackling the blue mech, and then Ratchet's blurred visage came into view. As darkness surrounded him, he thought he heard Ratchet say:

"Hold on, Prowl. You're gonna be fine."


	3. Damaged

When Prowl finally came online, he was surprised to find himself looking at the ceiling of an unknown room and hurting. But, his memory banks quickly brought him up to date and explained the strange situation he was in. He was hit by a mech's laser cannon during a crisis in the repair bay where Ratchet was working.

That now brought up the next question. What happened afterwards?

_I'd better go find Ratchet,_ Prowl thought. It was true he was feeling his body much heavier than he would have liked, but there was nothing for it. He had to get out of the berth to find the Autobot medic. It was the only way he could find out that everything was all right.

He regretted his decision the moment that he moved. Pain coursed through his circuits, making him cry out. He froze and closed his optics in the hopes of somehow calming himself.

At the next moment, he heard metallic footsteps hurrying to his direction.

"Ratchet?" Prowl said softly. He looked up, only to see that he was wrong. It was another mech, a black and silver one, who was now looking at Prowl in evident concern.

"Who are you?" Prowl asked. "And where's Ratchet?"

The mech didn't answer. He placed a white hand on Prowl's chest plate in a gesture to make him stay put.

"It will pass," Prowl said. "Just tell me if Ratchet is all right."

The mech didn't reply this time either. He just shook his head.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Prowl was now feeling his patience wearing thin, and he didn't even bother hiding it anymore.

The mech must have realised that as well, because his optics widened and he took a step back. Still, he said nothing.

This was too much, even for one as calm as Prowl. "Say something already!" he all but shouted.

The mech ruefully bowed his head.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The tactician immediately turned his head to the direction of the voice. It was First Aid, and the young medic was positively _glaring_ at Prowl. No matter how illogical that seemed to Prowl at that moment, he decided to overlook it because there was another, far more important matter to settle.

"Please, I want to know what happened. Your friend isn't telling me."

"That doesn't give you the right to scare him," First Aid snapped. He walked up to the silver and black mech and prodded him to look at him. "H, it's perfectly fine. He doesn't know, that's all."

The silver and black mech nodded meekly in understanding and cast a brief, apologetic look in Prowl's direction. Only then did the tactician suspect the reason behind mech's seemingly persistent silence.

"He--?"

First Aid proved faster and raised his hand in a gesture of silence. The tactician stopped mid-sentence and didn't continue, while H still looked at both of them, wringing his hands nervously.

First Aid smiled kindly and patted the silver shoulder in an encouraging manner.

"Why don't you go find our patient's friend and bring him here, okay?" he said in a gentle tone. "I'll stay here for a while."

That earned First Aid another nod and, as soon as he bowed his head in Prowl's direction in another form of apology, H turned on his heel and walked out.

Prowl bit back a gasp when he caught sight of H's back. To say that it was battered and scraped would have been an understatement; the whole frame seemed to be almost bent out of shape, several dents disfiguring it in an abhorring way. Scratches marred it so badly that there was practically no paint left. And the worst part were the two long holes along H's shoulder blades in place of what must have been door panels, very much like the tactician's.

_How...?_

"H-18 is one of our patients. He isn't silent merely out of choice," First Aid said at that moment, cutting into Prowl's train of thought. "You realise that now, right?"

"Yes," Prowl admitted. "I will apologise later."

"Good. And you should thank him while you're at it too. He finished what you started."

_What I started?_ Prowl thought. "What do you mean?"

Though First Aid looked like he was ready to answer, he never got the chance. At that moment, Ratchet walked in.

"Well, well, look who's decided to join the functioning!" the Autobot medic said, a broad smile on his lip components. He patted Prowl on the shoulder carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts when I move my torso and legs," Prowl replied candidly.

"Yes, I was afraid you might say that," Ratchet said. He turned to First Aid. "Could you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Sure thing," First Aid answered. He exited without another word, probably on his way to find Groove and the others.

Prowl locked his optics on Ratchet. "Well?"

Ratchet shook his head. "The laser cannon fried most of the circuitry in your mid-section and we had to replace the parts we couldn't fix with any spare ones that were available. Unfortunately, we couldn't do anything about a small cog that was close to your central kinetic gears. Without it, your motions get strained."

"In other words, I'm not supposed to move if I can help it," Prowl said with a sigh.

"Precisely," Ratchet said.

"And how long am I to stay like this?" Prowl asked.

"One of First Aid's siblings, Streetwise, has already left to find a cog that's compatible to the one that was destroyed. The bad news is that it can take him even up to a week, depending on his luck - that's what he said anyway."

Prowl pursed his lip components momentarily. He certainly didn't like what he heard, but what was he supposed to do?

"Did you inform Prime?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," Ratchet said. "I managed to make contact an hour ago."

"In the secret frequency?" Prowl asked.

"Of course."

"And what did he say?"

"What do you think?" Ratchet said. "To stay put till you get fixed, then leave before the Decepticons discover us and put the medical centre in danger."

Prowl nodded. "Good."

"Indeed," the medic said, smiling a bit again. "And now that we have taken care of that, I should go. With you incapacitated, I have to do the work of a medic _and_ a recruiter."

"My apologies," Prowl said.

Ratchet waved his hand dismissively. "It can't be helped. I'm just glad that young mech came along before you were finished off."

"Young mech?" Prowl searched his memory banks in the hopes of finding anything useful there. "Right… I remember. A silver and black one…" The tactician's voice trailed off when First Aid's words finally made sense. It was H that tackled the blue mech, obviously stopping him from causing further harm.

"That's the one," Ratchet said. "Speaking of which…" The Autobot medic walked up to the door, which hissed open to reveal H standing right behind it.

"Listen… H, right?" Ratchet said. He pointed in Prowl's direction. "My friend here won't be able to move for a while and so he might need help from time to time. Can you stay with him and make sure he gets comfortable?"

H nodded slowly.

"Good. Thanks." He let H step inside. "I'll be back soon enough," he reassured both mechs and, with one final wave of his hand, he was gone.

Silence reigned in the room as the two mechs regarded each other for a very long time. Prowl was quite cautious and trying to figure out what he was supposed to say first, whereas H looked quite embarrassed and unsure as to what to do.

In the end, Prowl's unwavering gaze proved too much for the young mech. H lowered his optics and walked up to the corner where there was a chair for him to sit down.

That had Prowl thinking hard. He still recalled First Aid's reprimand when he scared H, and Prowl hoped that he wouldn't do such a thing to the young mech again. H didn't deserve that, after all; not when he helped out just a couple of hours ago.

"I'm sorry about before," he finally said. "I honestly didn't know."

H looked at Prowl in surprise. In the end, probably feeling that Prowl's apology was sincere, he nodded politely, a thin yet friendly smile crossing his face-plate.

"And… you did well back at the repair-bay," Prowl continued on. "First Aid and the others must be fortunate to have you around."

That made H squirm uncomfortably in his chair and avert his gaze at once. Prowl stared at the black and silver mech dubiously, certainly not expecting that reaction. But, as he focused his gaze closer, he realised what the problem was.

H was trying to hide a blush.

Prowl couldn't help but find that amusing. _Quite modest, too,_ he thought.

There was silence again, though it wasn't as discomfiting as it was a few minutes ago. Still, it had the effect of seducing Prowl to a much-needed recharge. The tactician tried to fight it at first, wishing to study H a little while longer. That is, until he decided it wasn't possible. In a few moments, he was offline once more.


	4. War Wounds

Pain surged through Prowl and his optics instantly came online. He didn't understand why this happened, but his systems quickly notified his processor that he had made the mistake of moving while on recharge. Stopping all motion at once, he waited patiently for the pain to fade away and wished Streetwise would come soon with that spare cog.

Just then, he also noticed something else. H was nowhere in the room. Prowl's logic circuits reached quickly to the deduction that the young mech went out while Prowl was recharging. That meant there was either another emergency, or H got bored having to watch over a mech that wasn't able to go anywhere in the first place. Prowl never thought that he would ever consider this, but he wanted to believe it was the former option.

The hiss of the door opening instantly cut the tactician off his musings. Looking to his right, he saw H entering the room with his hands behind his back.

The young mech caught sight of the online Prowl, and his cheery expression changed to shame. He bowed his head in apology.

"It's all right. I haven't been awake for long," Prowl said, understanding what went through H's processor. "Has something happened?"

H shook his head at once and brought his hands forward to show Prowl what he was holding: two small energon cubes. Before Prowl could say anything to that, H placed one on the table and approached the berth with the other cube still in his hands.

"Is that for me?" Prowl asked, pointing at the energon.

H nodded at once, smiling.

Prowl sighed. "I don't think I can drink it. I can't sit up."

H wouldn't be deterred so easily though. Still smiling, he cupped Prowl's back of the head with his right hand in order to prod it upwards, while he placed the energon on the tactician's lip components with the other hand.

Prowl tried to protest and say that it was highly embarrassing – not to mention _undignified_ – to be nursed in such a manner. But the moment he opened his mouth and the energon trickled down his throat, all objections scattered in the wind. Prowl had never realised how much his body wanted to get revitalised, so he drank in big sips and kept his optics on H, hoping that his gratitude was easily reflected there.

Apparently it was, for H's smile broadened.

At that moment, Prowl was taken aback to notice how innocent H looked. It was almost as if…

_As if war hasn't touched him._

When the energon cube got emptied and H turned around to get his own share, however, the young mech unwittingly showed his misshapen back to the tactician.

It took a lot to upset Prowl, especially after all the time he spent in battles, fighting Decepticons. But now, at that sight before him, Prowl felt pity for H.

"It must have hurt a lot," he said softly. "Your back, I mean."

H's whole form grew rigid and motionless. He still held his energon as though about to drink it, but he never touched it. He didn't turn around to face Prowl either.

"Was it Decepticons?" the tactician asked.

The sound of something breaking filled the room. H looked at his energon-drenched hand with a defeated, sad expression. Prowl, on the other hand, felt his optics widen in concern, something that he never thought possible.

"Are you okay?"

H hardly acknowledged him anymore though. He simply walked towards a small cupboard nearby and opened it to take out a piece of cloth. Prowl watched the young mech wipe his hand carefully, making sure no stains were left.

Though the liquid was gone soon enough, H didn't stop. In fact, he started wiping both his hands, his optics were stubbornly locked on them as though seeing something Prowl couldn't. Until, with one last erratic movement of frustration, he let the cloth fall on the floor and then dropped on his knees. His optics reflected nothing as he stared downwards, without so much as moving.

Prowl could only stare in confusion. He lifted his hand, somehow believing that he would get H's attention. He tried to speak, but his vocaliser failed him. And finally, the sight of the young mech on the floor resembling nothing more than a broken doll became too much for the tactician. He used his right arm to cover his optics, not caring if it was irrational or that he showed traits unacceptable for the second-in-command of the Autobots.

He just couldn't bear looking at the young one's empty gaze.

------------------

The moment that Ratchet entered the room, a couple of hours later, H stood up in a weary manner and bowed in a gesture to be excused. It was a courteous bow, but Prowl noticed that he hardly looked either of the Autobots in the optic. And as soon as Ratchet gave him permission to leave, H left without so much as looking back.

That certainly made Ratchet curious. "Care to explain what happened?" he asked the tactician, as he took out a gauge from his medical kit.

Prowl huffed slightly and shook his head. "I blundered."

Ratchet looked at Prowl sceptically. "You? I find that hard to believe." He leaned forward and placed the gauge in one of the tactician's crevices, where he knew there was an energy distributor.

Prowl didn't argue. It didn't seem worthwhile. If Ratchet thought this was an oddity, he certainly didn't show it. He simply continued checking on Prowl's readings in silence. As far as Prowl knew, Ratchet probably welcomed that silence as a nice change. Most of his patients kept answering back.

Prowl quickly found out that this wasn't so.

"You know… First Aid isn't bad at what he's doing," the medic said. "He and his siblings certainly do a decent job around here, and the patients think quite highly of them."

"That's good to know," Prowl replied, indulging his friend.

Ratchet was far from finished.

"The problem is that they lack experience. I suppose they will gain it in time if they treat more patients. It still doesn't seem enough though." He paused momentarily. "They also need somebody to show them the tricks of the trade."

Prowl locked his gaze on Ratchet. "Are you thinking of recruiting them?"

Ratchet shrugged. "It's tempting. And yet if they leave the medical centre, there will be no one left to tend the wounded." He put the gauge close to another energy distributor. "It's because of them that mechs like H are now alive."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Prowl asked before he could help it.

This time, Ratchet looked at the tactician in a curious manner.

"Nobody knows," he answered. "According to First Aid, he staggered up to their doorstep one night, his whole back covered in his fluid, and collapsed right then and there. It was as if he had used up his whole energy just to get to the medical centre. And he probably had."

Prowl's optics widened in disbelief. The fact that H was practically dying and _still_ mustered the strength to find help was almost miraculous. It didn't make sense and yet… there was no denying the living proof.

"Unbelievable…" he murmured.

"You said it," Ratchet replied. "Anyway, First Aid repaired him to the best of his ability, but he could only do that much without the right spare parts and equipment."

"Is that why H's back looks so bad?"

Ratchet nodded.

"What about his vocaliser?"

"That's the oddest thing," the medic said. "His vocaliser doesn't have so much as a scratch on it."

That made Prowl stare at Ratchet in confusion. "Then why doesn't he talk?"

Ratchet sighed. "I'm afraid H is the only one who can answer you that question, Prowl." He checked the last readings and, seeming satisfied, he put the gauge back in his kit.

Prowl finally decided to just go ahead and ask what was on his mind. "Do you think you could fix him?"

That earned the tactician another curious glance from the medic.

"Yes… if we were back in Iacon. Why?"

"You saw him tackle that blue mech. He works well with others. He's strong-willed and dutiful," Prowl said. "He makes a good candidate for a place in our ranks."

"I see," Ratchet said thoughtfully.

There was silence for many moments.

"Is that the only reason?"

The only answer Ratchet got to his question was silence once more. Nevertheless, he understood enough. He rubbed his chin, considering matters carefully.

"As long as he's willing to follow us back to Iacon, I can fix him," he said again, making up his mind. "But it'll take more than just my scalpel for him to heal. I hope you understand that."

And with that he walked out, leaving Prowl alone with his thoughts.


	5. Facing Memories

Another day went by, and Streetwise didn't return. To Prowl, that meant the Protectobot still hadn't been able to find the right cog yet - which also meant the tactician would have to stay immobile at least one more day. Ratchet and First Aid tried to make his condition as bearable as possible, but it was getting harder. The uncomfortable feeling of helplessness and vulnerability Prowl tried to suppress through logic and bravery was slowly overwhelming the usually collected and passive Autobot.

And the worst part for Prowl was that H shut the tactician out after his breakdown. He didn't so much as look at Prowl anymore, let alone address him in his friendly, albeit quiet manner.

Prowl never thought it was possible but… he felt lonesome.

He sighed and looked again in the direction of H. The young mech was sitting on his accustomed spot in the corner. His back was to the wall and his gaze remained locked on the floor.

It seemed that H had no intentions of acknowledging Prowl's presence today either. Even so, Prowl was certain H wasn't acting this way because he was angry with the tactician. His body posture didn't reveal such a thing anyway. No. The young one was pained, like he always had been even before Prowl met him. He just didn't bother to hide it behind a smile in the hopes that all the bad things would just vanish.

_I wish you knew how sorry I am,_ Prowl thought sadly. _My words just won't suffice this time._

Just then, a booming sound reached Prowl's audio receptors, and his berth shook violently. Being accustomed to such kind of sudden occurrences, Prowl managed to assess the situation quickly and efficiently. The sound was quite a distance away from the medical centre. Nevertheless, Prowl was still sure that it was an explosion – one that had the name "Decepticons" written all over it.

He caught a flash of light from the corner of his optic, making him look out the window. Another loud explosion confirmed the fact that a raid was actually taking place somewhere beyond the walls of the medical centre.

_So typical of them._ He turned around so he wouldn't have to watch such a disturbing sight. After all, there was nothing he could do to stop the Decepticons.

Then he saw H. The young mech still kept his gaze on the floor, giving the impression that he wasn't paying attention to what was happening around him. Yet Prowl could clearly see the white hands trembling.

The tactician didn't know how long he remained like this, watching the young one trying piteously to remain calm but flinching at every loud sound. In the end though, Prowl knew _exactly_ what he should do.

"H?"

H didn't respond at once. Several moments later, however, the young mech dared a peek in the tactician's direction.

Prowl extended his hand. "Come here," he said softly.

H looked at him, uncertain, and then out the window. He shook his head.

Prowl understood.

"I'm just five steps away from you. All you have to do is keep your optics on me and count." He smiled reassuringly. "I know you can do that."

H thought about it. Deciding that Prowl had a point, he nodded and stood up. He shuffled one leg forward and made the first step, but another, closer explosion reverberated through the room. H almost directed his gaze to its direction.

"No, don't turn," Prowl reminded the young mech, keeping his tone calm. "Just look at me and move on."

H nodded at once, remembering himself. Bracing himself as though he was ready to take a deep plunge into unknown waters, he swiftly took the next four steps and brought himself close to the tactician.

Prowl winced inwardly when he noticed H's wide-open optics, for he realised just how terrified the young mech was. Since this wouldn't do, he took one of H's hands and curled his own fingers around it.

"That was it," he said soothingly. "You did well."

H looked as though he didn't register what Prowl just told him. But, the frightened expression started smoothing away and, moments later, H's initial panic eventually died down. H squeezed Prowl's hand a bit, thus expressing his thanks.

Prowl smiled a bit. "You're welcome." He patted the small empty space at the side of the berth. "Sit down."

H tried to object somehow, certainly thinking that he would be inconveniencing the injured mech if he tried to occupy part of the berth as well. But Prowl didn't let the young one continue.

"It's okay," he said simply.

H decided to comply. He sat down without letting go of Prowl's hand, while he kept his optics stubbornly away from the window. He still flinched at every explosion, but at least he wasn't shaking. That was something Prowl welcomed.

Fifteen minutes later, everything was quiet once more. Even so, neither of the mechs let go of the other. That is, until shame caught up with H and he bowed his head. He tried to let go of Prowl's hand, but the tactician's grip didn't loosen.

"You are too hard on yourself."

H sighed, clearly not sharing the same opinion. But Prowl wanted to make the young one understand.

"Trust me. I know."

H stared at Prowl, unsure what to make of that statement. Meanwhile, Prowl just kept talking; for a long-suppressed need finally surfaced and it wouldn't be smothered.

"Have you ever heard of the city of Praxus?"

H shook his head.

"I suppose you haven't," the tactician said. "It's just that you look like you could have been from there."

That certainly piqued H's curiosity. He cocked his head in a questioning manner.

Prowl smiled ruefully. "It was the city where I was created," he explained in a soft tone. "It was a beautiful city, bustling with life. Most of my friends were there too. For a long time, it seemed that nothing could taint those tall, burnished buildings which offered me and the other inhabitants a comfortable haven.

"Then I heard the roars from the sky. It was true that rumours about a group of Cybertronians who could fly had reached my audio receptors, but I didn't really believe it. I thought it was merely a tale, like the ones old mechs sometimes say when they're overcharged with high-grade.

"I was wrong."

A small gasping sound drew Prowl from his grievous reminiscence.

"Yes," he said, answering H's horrified look. "Five minutes after the roars filled the air, the first buildings started to fall. Two hours later, everything was gone. And during that whole time there was nothing but utter disarray. Screaming, running, crying, fear for one's life – all jumbled into one big chaos from which there was no escape." Prowl's vocaliser almost failed him, yet Prowl persisted. "And the only reason some of us survived was because we had luck on our side.

"The irony was… I didn't consider myself lucky. In some ways, I still don't."

H's grip on Prowl's hand tightened as he kept it close to the black chest-plate. When the tactician saw the tears welling up at the young one's optics and trickle down H's visage, he used his free hand to wipe the liquid away with a gentle stroke.

"That's what happened to you too, isn't it?" he asked. His voice was barely a whisper.

H nodded. He quickly used the back of his other hand to wipe some more tears that started accumulating in his optics, but there was nothing he could do about the confusion and desperation reflected in them.

"I know," Prowl murmured. "Even now, there are times that I ask myself the same question: why I should survive when others didn't. The only logical answer I can come up with is that I survived so I could find a way to atone for those I didn't save; to reach a position where I _could_ do that. Because I like to think that then I live for them as well." His optics locked on H's. "Don't blame yourself for living. It's not fair to you."

That was all H could take. As Prowl's last words came out of his lip components, he bowed his head and his shoulders shuddered involuntarily. At the sound of the first sob echoing in the room, Prowl tugged H gently and brought him down to a comforting embrace, whispering close to the young one's audio receptors that it was all right. Another sob followed and, soon enough, the silver and black mech was openly crying, while Prowl held the young one close as soothingly as possible.

The tactician never realised that there was something oddly wet in the corner of one of his own optics as well.


	6. Another Kind Of Logic

"That can't be all that comfortable."

Prowl turned to the sound of Ratchet's voice. The medic was standing on the doorway, looking with interest at the scene that was unfolded before him. H was resting his torso on Prowl's in deep recharge after crying for almost an hour, and Prowl had his arms around H's shoulders in order to keep him steady.

"I didn't want to wake him up," the tactician explained. He kept his voice low, not wishing to disturb the young mech.

Ratchet smiled a bit, an unreadable expression on his face plate. "I see. Still, I can't have him burden you, so you'd better help me pick him up."

Prowl complied, trying not to move his torso too much. It took some careful and patient handling from both awake mechs but, in the end, Ratchet managed to pick up H in his arms and place him gently on the nearby chair. H stirred for a moment, but there was no need for alarm. The young mech just slept on.

"Did you hear the explosions?" Prowl asked Ratchet.

"Unfortunately," Ratchet replied. "I'm afraid this area won't be neutral much longer."

"I'm afraid so too," Prowl said, then looked at the medic curiously. "But that's not why you came here, is it?"

"You got it right," Ratchet said. "Streetwise came back. He found the spare cog."

Prowl couldn't feel more relieved at hearing those news. "Good. When can you start working on me?"

"How about…" Ratchet's smile broadened and showed Prowl the cog, "… now?"

Prowl couldn't help it. He smiled too. But, as Ratchet did the operation, one thought after another started jumbling in the tactician's processor. Thoughts that concerned another mech, as well. He had become so engrossed, in fact, that he was surprised when Ratchet patted him on the shoulder and declared that he finished.

"Mind you, I wouldn't suggest doing cartwheels just yet," Ratchet continued on. "Do some simple motions first to adjust your circuitry to the new part, and then have H support you when you start walking around."

"I will."

"Good." With that, Ratchet got ready to walk out.

Prowl's voice stopped him midway. "Ratchet… how many new recruits have we got?"

"About ten," Ratchet answered. "Why?"

Prowl didn't answer at once. He first looked in the direction of the recharging mech.

"Make that eleven."

Ratchet regarded Prowl hard. "Are you sure about this?"

Prowl nodded.

"And what about his other trauma?"

Prowl's lip components pursed for a moment, clearly in thought. "He will be fine."

"Did he _tell_ you that?"

Prowl stared the medic for many long moments, stunned silence reigning in the room.

"That… was uncalled for," he said in the end, his voice soft.

Ratchet shook his head. "Perhaps… But if it means you'll remember in what condition this one is, it's fine by me." He walked up to Prowl and locked his gaze on the tactician's, his optics narrowed. "Did you even _discuss_ this with him?"

"No, but I mean to--"

But Ratchet was getting more indignant by the minute. "Do you realise he'll be in the very centre of the storm that almost destroyed him once already?"

Prowl's optics widened. "Of course I have," he answered. "At least within our ranks he'll have a fighting chance to remain alive."

"Are you prepared to tell him of all the dangers that he's going to face while battling Decepticons?"

"Of course!" the tactician insisted, unable to understand why Ratchet did this. Prowl always trained new recruits to the point of excellence, so that lack of confidence was seriously disturbing.

"And are you aware that he has to battle his own demons as well?" Ratchet asked again.

"Yes!"

"And you're still willing to take responsibility for whatever happens to him?!" Though Ratchet's voice was quite low now, Prowl still heard the criticising tone. "Even if it means cleaning the mess of fluid from the floor after he shoots himself out of his misery?"

It was then that something unprecedented ignited within Prowl's spark. Anger. Raw, unbridled anger that surged through every system and relay, making him curse mentally for not being able to sit up and punch Ratchet on the jaw. Anger that tore off his vocaliser in a scream.

"I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!"

There was an abrupt motion from the chair nearby, making both Autobots turn. H had come online at the sound of the scream, and he was now looking at both of them incredulously.

"It's fine, H," Prowl said, his voice slowly returning back to its usual tone. "We were just talking."

H wasn't a fool. He still looked at the two Autobots, clearly intending to separate them the moment they started arguing again.

"H," Ratchet said, his optics never leaving Prowl's. "Please, step outside for a while."

The young mech didn't move.

"Don't worry," Ratchet said again in reassurance. "I don't usually lunge at my patients. It means more repairs afterwards."

That finally appeased H. Accepting the medic's humour with grace, he headed towards the door.

As soon as the door hissed closed, the most unusual sound filled the air. Ratchet _chuckled._ In fact, his whole demeanour changed dramatically, as though he wasn't fighting with Prowl just minutes ago. All Prowl could do was stare at the medic dumbly, feeling the first signs of an overload on his logic circuits coming up.

"What is… so funny?" he asked slowly, unsure how to approach that matter.

Ratchet smiled broadly. "You screamed. To be more precise, you screamed and wanted nothing more than tear my throat." He paused to give the tactician a smug look. "You actually let emotions overwhelm you."

Prowl gaped at the realisation. He didn't want to believe it, but there was no use denying it. His logic, the one thing he valued the most… failed him.

"I fear so," he whispered, lowering his gaze. "I apologise."

Ratchet shook his head. "You shouldn't. Now I know that he's going to be in good hands."

The tactician looked back at Ratchet. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that for you to show emotion for H's sake, he has become quite important to you. Important enough to not regard him as another expendable number in our ranks," the medic explained. "That's precisely what H needs, and I wanted to be sure you knew that as well."

Prowl rubbed his forehead. It was a miracle that his processor didn't shut down at Ratchet's logic and yet… the medic's words actually made sense.

"Point taken," he said in the end. "I'll remember. Thank you."

"All part of my job," Ratchet said, still smiling. He turned on his heel and walked to the direction of the door. H, to neither of the Autobots' surprise, was merely a couple of feet away from the door, waiting expectantly to be let in again. The young mech looked at Ratchet curiously.

"You can go back in," Ratchet said. "You two have something to talk about anyway."

H watched the medic leave, a bemused expression on his face-plate, and then turned to Prowl's direction.

Prowl smiled inwardly, for he realised what Ratchet wanted the two of them to talk about. He pointed at the chair nearby.

"Sit down. It won't take long."

H complied.


	7. A New Beginning

The next day, Ratchet was standing outside the medical centre with First Aid and the rest of the Protectobots, shaking each and everyone's hand.

"Thank you for your hospitality," the Autobot medic said. "I hope you keep up with the good work."

First Aid chuckled a bit. "If there's anyone who should say thanks, it's us," he said. "You helped us fix a lot of mechs that seemed beyond repair."

"And who knows," another Protectobot said, "If the time comes when we won't be needed here any longer… we just might take up on your offer."

"I'll be glad if you do, Hot Spot," Ratchet answered truthfully. "I'd be honoured to work with you guys again."

It was then that Mallet approached, his new legs carrying his strong form surely. There was no denying it: Ratchet had done a good job indeed.

"The transport is ready," the black mech said. "I've already programmed it to take you straight to Iacon."

"What about the recruits?" Ratchet asked.

"Already aboard and waiting," Mallet answered. He looked around, noticing that someone was missing. "So, where's your friend?"

"I'm right here," Prowl said, stepping out of the main entrance of the medical centre and followed closely behind by H. The tactician's step was slightly uncertain as his inner system was still adjusting to the new cog implanted on him. Nevertheless, he was smiling. And, what was more, H had accepted Prowl's suggestion to join the Autobots and he couldn't wait to go to Iacon.

H's excitement vanished momentarily when he saw the Protectobots though. It was clear that saying goodbye to the mechs that saved him would prove difficult.

That was probably why the Protectobots and Mallet decided to make things easier for the young one.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Mallet said. "I'll be looking after them."

"Just go out there and live your life now that you have a second chance," First Aid said kindly. "Make the most out of it."

H nodded, showing in this way that he would do just that. He waved Mallet and each of the Protectobots goodbye, then followed Prowl and Ratchet to their means of transport. Several moments later, the shuttle blasted off to its course towards the Autobot city.

Prowl watched as H turned around to have one last look at the building that sheltered him all this time.

"You're going to miss them, aren't you?" he asked.

H didn't bother hiding the truth. He nodded.

Prowl placed a comforting hand on one of H's shoulders. "You'll probably see them again," he said in reassurance. "And then you'll get to show them your fixed back," he added with a smile.

H couldn't help it. He smiled as well. At the next moment though, there was a strange thoughtfulness reflected in the young one's optics that Prowl didn't know what to make of it. It was as though H was carefully contemplating something, but Prowl couldn't even guess what could that something be. He could only hope it didn't mean that H was having second thoughts about his decision.

Fortunately, Prowl got his answer soon enough. H extended a hand in his direction and then said in a hoarse yet clear voice:

"I'm Bluestreak."

Prowl stared at the silver and black mech for a moment in mild, but very visible surprise. He didn't expect the young mech to speak so soon.

Then again, Prowl understood. Now that H – no, Bluestreak – was setting off to a new life, he wanted to give it a proper start. So, Prowl took the offered hand and shook it slightly.

"I'm Prowl. Welcome to the Autobots," he said.


End file.
